


Among Sirius And Starlight

by dogtit



Series: in four years [6]
Category: Ever After High
Genre: F/F, prepare for a lot of dogs and a lot of boofs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6693676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogtit/pseuds/dogtit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s said so simply that it’s almost like Ramona doesn’t care much for the jarring insinuation that she doesn’t consider herself a human first and a wolf second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Laelaps and Procris

**Author's Note:**

> im actually fairly nervous about this one tbh! i have 0 handle rosabella and i started the first chapter before moonlight mystery, which kind of flipped my expectations for her a lil bit. i think it'll get better as things actually get into gear!
> 
> this first chapter definitely takes place before A Fragrant Truth! 'dori when will you actually move on with four years' ITS COMING, I PROMISE, I JUST NEED BACKSTORY FIRST

**maybe open ur peanut sized brains 2 what shes sayin. btw u soggy sack of walnuts dont bring slurs in2 this discussion. it is completely unnecessary like cmon.**

 

Rosabella looks at the forum post with something like love. fangs_fur_justice has been her most stalwart and most vocal supporter since her second year at Ever After High. They’re not in every thread she participates in, nor are they in every thread she makes, but Rosabella appreciates that they make an effort to show they care about her and animals in general. 

 

Her most recent thread-- _ Why Faux Fur Is A Better Alternative _ \--has a mostly positive response. For a school as fashion oriented as Ever After High, Rosabella has been honestly expecting a backlash the size of a tidal wave to hit her. She’s spent the last few days checking her inbox with a squeamish mix of anxiety and courage, digging deep into herself for reserves of strength. To say that nine out of ten comments are hits of ‘I totally agree!’ or ‘ _ hexcellent point! _ ’ is a surprise to her is equivalent to saying that Faybelle Thorn sort-of-likes her destiny. A massive understatement.

 

It makes her grin, until an anonymous user who only titles their submissions with a rude gesture of an emoji comes in to ruin it. Again. She’s tried blocking them but they keep slipping into her threads. A tech-savvy troll with too much time on their hands, and a goal to make her utterly miserable before Beast Training and Care.

 

Her email dings with a notification. Rosabella refreshes the page. 

 

**Art thou mad, brethren? We’re allowed to have opinions too, you know. If the animals are too dumb to get out of the way of my gun, then I earned their pelts. If little miss Rebel Furry has a problem, then she’d better tell the animals to get smarter. And if her little groupies like you have a problem, then fight me, lol.**

 

Rosabella grinds her jaw so hard it  _ hurts _ . Insults to herself she can take, but this is crossing a line. She’s about to hit block--and give the troll the satisfaction of ‘cracking under pressure’ again--when there’s another response.

 

It’s just a picture of a dumpster, specifically of the dumpster behind the Marsh Pit before Duchess Swan closed the book on it. All slime and goo and gunk, running over the rusted rim of a dented old thing; Rosabella wants to puke just from the sight. fangs_fur_justice only has this to say:

 

**found ur house but ur not here??? thought u were rdy for an a**kicking.**

 

Despite the anger simmering under her skin, Rosabella barks out a startled laugh. It might not be the most Princess-y thing to laugh at an unkind comment (even toward an unkind party) but Rosabella considers herself an activist first, and a princess second. 

 

Her phone buzzes with the ten minute warning alarm, and although she  _ aches _ to reply she simply blocks the anonymous user. Before she closes her computer, she does give fangs_fur_justice a like. 

 

* * *

 

 

She checks the thread again at lunch, Cerise and Darling on either side of her. It hasn’t gotten any more traction yet--aside from a couple of people commenting ‘nice’ to fangs_fur_justice for the wicked burn--which is a little disappointing. Her threads tend to die out soon after the anonymous user comes in to hassle her, which is why she has to create so many new threads on the student forum.

 

“Are you okay?” Darling’s soft voice pierces through the tired veil of her thoughts. “I saw what happened on the thread this morning. I can’t  _ stand _ how they keep picking fights with you!”

 

“Well, it’s the Mirrornet,” Rosabella says, taking off her glasses to massage the bridge of her nose. “I’m not an admin on that forum, so there’s only so much I can do…”

 

“It’s harassment.” Cerise growls. “The  _ coward _ , can’t even bother to own up to it!”

 

“It’s--well, it’s not  _ alright _ , but I can deal.” Rosabella doesn’t have to try for a smile, looking fondly at her phone. “Someone’s got my back.” 

 

Her aura is pink and wispy, swirling with gold and shedding like rose petals. It’s entirely unprofessional to have a crush on your loudest supporter, but they’ve gone and send her a private message asking  _ u ok?? dont listen to that idiot. its gonna be ok. i got u _ so she’s on the hook. She can’t help it! She knows very little about fangs_fur_justice, but they’re protective to a fault, knowledgeable and kind, and passionate about forest conservation. How can she not crush over all that?

 

Suddenly, Cerise’s aura goes an alarmed yellow, rigid and rising like the fur of a cat. “Uh oh.” 

 

Rosabella looks up just as she hears a canine snarl of rage. Ramona Badwolf stands over a cowering Ugly Ducking, flashing her fangs in the face of  Fierté LeGume--son of  _ Monsieur Gaston _ . Her story’s most avid admirer and its antagonist; or he was, until claiming to go Rebel. Personally, Rosabella doesn’t believe that; Fierté’s aura is always a sickly green of envy or jaundice yellow depending on who he’s speaking to. He wouldn’t have the guts to go Rebel for real.

 

“ _ Nobody  _ cuts in front of me,” Ramona stands straight and tall, a good three inches taller than him. 

 

“But Duckling was saving this spot for me.”  Fierté smiles like a sneer. “She was even going to buy me lunch.” 

 

Rosabella makes to stand, her eyes straining. Ugly purple clouds around him; a lie, as if poor Ugly Duckling’s shivering form isn’t signal enough. The poor thing’s going to be  _ trampled _ if she doesn’t act soon!

 

Ramona growls louder, students backing away from her. Rosabella goes breathless as she registers the colors. The silhouette of her aura is shaped like a wolf--predictably--but it’s colored a deep forest green.  _ Protective. _ She takes a step forward with great care to Duckling, stabbing her knuckle against Fierté’s chest and his throat bobs. 

 

“If you’re gonna  _ lie _ to a Badwolf, at least make sure you can do it  _ right _ . You stink like the unicorn stables, LeGume.” 

 

“It’s my word against yours.” Fierté grits his teeth. “And who’d believe a slobbery,  _ mangy _ mutt, anyway?!”

 

Cerise’s aura goes bright red with anger, and Darling’s flares, incensed. Rosabella is three seconds away from storming over herself to give Fierté  LeGume a piece of her mind. Cerise and Darling would back her up, she knows it; between the three of them they could have LeGume in pieces. 

 

But of course they aren’t needed.

 

Ugly Duckling makes a sobbing, pathetic little noise; Ramona’s eyes flash gold and she grips the front of his shirt, hauling him up off the ground with a single arm. Students gasp and the lunch-lady scrambles to inform Headmaster Grimm. 

 

Still, her aura never wavers in color. Rosabella expects it to turn fire carriage red, or mottled magenta for fury, wrath. But it stays as green as a forest’s canopy; she doesn’t think Ramona is even bothered by the insult.

 

Fierté’s aura, however, goes neon yellow and he kicks his legs, sputtering with fear. “W-wait, wait a second, hold on--let’s just talk this out--”

 

Ramona curls her lips off of her fangs, her claws tearing into the fabric of  Fierté’s designer Marco-Polo shirt. “ _ Look at you.  _ You’re all talk, no substance. Can’t even back your words up with any action; this must be  _ pretty embarrassing for you. _ ”

 

He swings his legs again, yelping. “P-Put me down, this, instant! You flea bitten, stupid dog!”

 

Ramona pretends to think, tapping a claw on her chin. “Hmm...I think it’s about time you went home, LeGume, and let the rest of us have lunch in peace.” 

 

Fierté pales. “H-home, what do you--” 

 

Ramona  _ tosses  _ him. The boy goes sailing through the air, voice shrieking in an octave that would make Meeshell Mermaid jealous. People scream and scatter away just as he lands loudly in the community trashcan. The lid falls down heavily, trapping him. 

 

“Tell your dad I said hi!” Ramona laughs viciously. When she turns around to Ugly Duckling, her aura goes soft and warm, as gold as her eyes. She crouches slowly, offering a palm. “C’mon, nerd. Looks like we get free lunch.” 

 

Ugly Duckling quacks, tears dripping off her little bill as she hops aboard. Ramona takes the greatest care to put her up to the counter to let her gather her lunch; she even hovers close by for a moment, glaring hard at anyone getting close, making sure Duckling’s tray is completely full of birdseed before gathering up a huge burger for herself. Ramona adds a half pint carton of milk that makes her nose wrinkle with disgust, and a glass of soda.

 

Fierté manages to pry open the lid of the garbage can, gagging. “You  _ utter brute _ ! Rest assured, my father’s going to hear about this! So help me Grimm, I’m going to make you  _ pay-- _ ”

 

Ramona slices open the milk with one claw, and pours it over his head. “You’re still in time out.” She forces the lid shut again with a smirk, to the applause of the villain’s table. LeGume isn’t as popular as he likes to think he is. Rosabella feels a laugh bubble in her throat, and Ramona’s ears twitch before snapping to her direction.

 

Ramona’s aura flares bright pink. Rosabella stops looking at her aura in the second heartbeat, feeling her own face heat with shock. It’s rude to know that someone has a crush on you just by looking at their true colors.

 

_ On me? _ Rosabella feels dizzy.  _ Oh, man. _

 

Darling waves. “Ramona! Come sit with us.” 

 

The girl in question hesitates, and she doesn’t move towards them until Rosabella calls, “Please!”

 

Ramona huffs, kicking backwards to send the trashcan with  Fierté LeGume spinning down the aisle on its wheels and she stomps her way over. Ugly Duckling waddles behind her as fast as her little webbed feet can take her. 

 

“She’s sitting over here too, I  _ guess _ ,” Ramona sighs, like it’s an inconvenience to her very existence, but she noticeably slows her pace and gives Darling a look that tacks an invisible  _ or else _ to her statement. 

 

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Rosabella says with a smile as Ramona drops her tray onto the table and slouches into her seat with no grace. Cerise goes oddly tense and Rosabella feels a little bit guilty; she isn’t sure how Cerise and Ramona will get along, being hero and villain after all. If Ramona notices, she doesn’t say anything; instead she reaches down and carefully picks up Ugly Duckling to set her on the table, too.

 

“Thank you, Ramona,” Duckling says, her voice thick and clogged with tears. “That was very, very brave.”

 

“ _ Shut up _ .” Ramona grumps, gnawing on her fries. “He cut me in line, and I’m hungry. He was an idiot to get in my way.”

 

“It was pretty heroic is what it was,” Darling says with a sly giggle. 

 

Ramona glares. “Gross. I don’t care that you guys don’t want to follow your destiny,  _ not my business _ , but I  _ do _ and I’m not a  _ hero _ .”

 

“You didn’t have to pick me up and make sure I got to eat first, though,” Ugly Duckling comments shyly, pecking at her meal. Ramona responds by taking an incredibly huge bite of her burger. It isn’t the steam from her lunch that has her cheeks turning red, that much Rosabella knows.  “I think you’re just really nice!” 

 

Cerise coughs into the palm of her hand. It almost sounds like  _ you don’t have to live with her. _

 

Ramona swallows her bite, wipes her mouth politely, and looms over Ugly Duckling with a growl. “I could eat you for a snack, pipsqueak. I’m not  _ nice _ .” 

 

“Well, you were nice to me.” Duckling smiles. “It doesn’t happen to me a lot, so I’ve learned to recognize niceness when it does!”

 

“...Yeah. Well.” Ramona backs off, looking all the more awkward for it. “I. I mean, I guess. Maybe a little bit nice, or. Whatever.”

 

“I thought it was excellent,” Rosabella says. Ramona sits up straight, eyes wide. “I don’t agree with violence being the answer, but…” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “LeGume really  _ was _ asking for it. He was totally harassing Duckling for her lunch money, wasn’t he?” 

 

“Yeah,” Duckling wilts, her sparse feathers drooping. “Like I said...people aren’t really nice to me. It’s all ‘cause’a my story. But that’s okay! I just gotta tough it out, and then I’ll be a pretty swan. And there’s people like Ramona, who’ll look out for me!”

 

“I-I never said that!” Ramona stammers, hunching her shoulders almost like she’s cowering away from a creature as big as her hand. “I’m not your babysitter! This was, uh, a one, one time thing, got that?!”

 

Rosabella rests her chin in her hands.  _ What a terrible liar. _

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning is a pensive one. Ramona Badwolf has a crush on her.

 

Rosabella isn’t sure how she feels about that yet. A little guilty, yes, because she’s sure that she’s not  _ supposed _ to know that, but the thought doesn’t sit  _ wrong _ with her. It’s definitely different from the feeling she gets when she knows creeps like Sparrow Hood or Fierté LeGume like her. Maybe because Ramona hasn’t been hounding her down for a date. 

 

She sighs all the same as she gets ready for the day. She does feel a  _ little  _ sorry for Ramona; Rosabella has a prince waiting for her at the end of the story, and in the meantime she’s crushing hard on fangs_fur_justice. None of that leaves a lot of room for a Big Bad Wolf. Rosabella decides that she’s going to do her best to keep their interactions as platonic as she possibly can. She doesn’t want to lead Ramona on, and she doesn’t want to invade her privacy any more than she already has. 

 

Beast Training and Care isn’t the most popular class--only ten students attend Professor Bear’s lectures. There were more at the beginning of the year, but they dropped the class once they realized that their teacher wasn’t going to be bringing in fantastic beasts every week; it’s more theory than practice. Rosabella loves that, though; it’s a treat to be able to handle the animals, yes, but she’s more worried about their safety than her own feelings. Education is more important than being able to pet something.

 

However, the class is on edge when she walks in; Ramona in particular keeps shifting, her nose scrunching and ears twitching back and forth. Her aura reads as  _ restless energy _ . Not quite scared, but certainly apprehensive. Rosabella looks to the door of Professor Bear’s office as she takes a seat close--but not next to--the tense girl. 

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“Something not good.” Ramona’s hackles rise an inch. “Not  _ dangerous _ to us, but not  _ good _ .”

 

The door opens. Rosabella sits up straighter as Professor Poppa Bear walks in…

 

...with a puppy. At least, it’s a puppy based on what Rosabella knows about proportions and how fur grows in; the creature's about the size of a full grown, medium breed dog. 

 

Hunter sucks in a breath and the tiniest whimper escapes his throat. Blondie has her Mirrorphone out and on record, her feet bouncing beneath her desk. Ramona shakes in her seat, tension coming and releasing in soft, electric blue waves. Her jawline works, like she’s grinding her teeth, and her lips are thinned into a hard line; then Rosabella realizes she’s staring at Ramona’s mouth and looks back at the front before she can be caught. 

 

“Settle yourselves, class.” Professor Bear’s voice is as grizzly as he is. “We’ve been given a great honor here at Ever After High, and I want to make sure you all understand the gravity of what I’m about to say. Who here knows what I have in my arms right now?”

 

“A direwolf.” 

 

Ramona’s voice is a rasp of anger. Rosabella turns to look at her again, startled. 

 

“Where’s the mother?” Ramona asks next. “A mother wouldn’t leave her pups unattended for  _ us _ to carry around unless--”

 

Professor Bear’s ears droop. Ramona’s eyes close with pain. Rosabella slowly slides into the seat next to her, and puts a hand against her arm. The hard knot of muscle that makes up her bicep is a surprise--Ramona is built much like her father, broad shouldered and bottom heavy--but to feel the evidence of that strength is another matter. Rosabella hesitates to look at her aura and when she does she finds teal sorrow pressing against her fingers. Ramona shakes under her touch; Rosabella has never been so thoroughly arrested in such a short time. 

 

It makes sense, though. Of course Ramona, of all of them, would feel the death of a direwolf so keenly. 

 

“But,” Blondie starts, hesitantly, her voice cracking. “But I thought direwolves were endangered. And protected because of that.” 

 

“So sure that it was a hunter that did it?” Professor Bear shifts the whimpering pup in his arms before he sighs. “But you’re correct. Direwolves are near extinction, and there are many restrictions placed onto the forests that have been set up for their conservation. Poachers, however, believe they are outside of the law.”

 

The fury wells up in Rosabella’s stomach like acid. 

 

“The criminal was put in Southstairs soon after he tried to brag about his kill,” Professor Bear growls after, which lessens the tension in the classroom only by a hair. Southstairs Correctional Facility is usually where the worst of the worst are sent. The Evil Queen’s new mirror is housed in one of its high security rooms, last Rosabella heard. It isn’t enough for her, though. The hunter probably got the maximum fine--over hundreds of thousands in gold--but the maximum amount of time in Southstairs will only be a year, maybe two. 

 

Professor Bear continues,  “The litter was brought to us, as we were closest with the available resources, and I believe that watching over these pups would be a great benefit. For them, and for all of you.” 

 

Diamanda Keyskin, daughter of the Donkeyskin princess, shyly raises her hand. “Wouldn’t actual professionals be better suited though, professor? Won’t they just become docile if we handle them?”

 

“Direwolves are smarter than anyone gives them credit for,” Professor Bear replies evenly. “As am I. I wouldn’t have suggested our class handle them if I thought we would pose a danger to the litter.”

 

“Besides,” Ramona interjects, “you can’t really  _ tame _ a direwolf. They choose if they’re yours or if they’re not.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Professor Bear leads them into his office after that. Every professor’s office is magically enchanted to be impossibly larger than it appears, a brand of hammerspace magic that originated in Wonderland. The floor is soft, dusty earth and a loamy smell fills Rosabella’s nose. It reminds her of the forest, and with all of the furniture done in old wood only adds to the appeal. Shelves covered in trinkets, old brass devices that Rosabella has only seen in old history books; a black iron stove and a stack of logs close by. A home away from home, if she ever saw one.

 

The only thing that looks out of place in a professor’s office (aside from the stove, of course) is the inclusion of fenced off area. Rosabella’s heart utterly shatters when she sees the rest of the litter curled up in a pile, pressing as far away from them as they’re able to. When Professor Bear lowers the fifth pup in, they scamper to their siblings. 

 

She’s never been more proud of the class on a whole as everyone keeps their distance, recognizing that they’re not wanted.

 

“They’re…” Blondie’s voice is soft. “They’re scared of us, Professor.” 

 

“You’re human,” Ramona says gruffly. “The last thing they know about humans is that they killed their mother.” 

 

What should be a reprimand is softened by Ramona reaching out, and putting a hand on Blondie’s head. 

 

“They’re smart, though. And still young. They won’t be afraid of you for long.”

 

“Ms. Badwolf is correct,” Professor Bear rumbles, moving toward the stove with a bag of powdered formula in his paws. “This is why I thought it was important that you all work with the litter, help to teach them that humans on a whole are not a threat to them. They already know that humans with guns are dangerous; you have to teach them the rest. Ms. Lockes, will you come here, please? I trust your judgement on getting this formula...just right.” 

 

“The poor things,” Rosabella whispers as Blondie moves to the stove at a careful pace as instructed. “They still needed to nurse--and that hunter just--!” 

 

Ramona’s hand lands on her head, this time. “Be angry later. Focus on the litter. They don’t need angry humans right now.”

 

Rosabella forces herself to relax. It helps a little that Ramona’s aura bleeds yellow orange, gold braided against the lupine silhouette that roils off of her shoulders. She’ll catch a flash or two of outraged crimson, hinting that Ramona is struggling to take her own advice. The fact that everyone is banding together now, against the cruelty of the past, does wonders to soothe her nerves. Too often Rosabella feels like she’s shouting into the void. At least, in this, she isn’t. 

 

“Just right,” Blondie murmurs, ladeling the finished milk into huge, plastic bottles. “I just...wish this situation were the same.” 

 

“Don’t we all, Ms. Lockes,” Professor Bear says, patting her on the back. “Now, to start, I’m assigning you partners. Pair by pair you’re going to get into the pen and let the litter interact with the two of you at their leisure. Be patient; be calm. It’s what the little ones need right now.”

 

“Absolutely, sir,” Rosabella says.

 

He gives her a smile, and nods. “Ms. Beauty, Ms. Badwolf, you’ll be working together.” 

 

_ Oh, no. _ Rosabella stops looking at auras, not wanting to see if Ramona’s encouraging golds will burst into vivid pinks. This is precisely the sort of situation she wanted to  _ avoid _ , but Ramona doesn’t really...react, outside of a low release of breath and a clipped, “Yes, sir.” 

 

“Pick up a bottle each, then step over the gate. Slowly, now.” 

 

“Let me get in first,” Ramona asks. “Dad showed me a few tricks.” 

 

Rosabella looks up, startled. “You’ve worked with direwolves before?”

 

“The Badwolf estate’s right by a reservational forest. We’ve got permits to take care of the packs.” She shrugs loosely. “Wolves look out for wolves.”

 

It’s said so simply that it’s almost like Ramona doesn’t care much for the jarring insinuation that she doesn’t consider herself a human first and a wolf second. Maybe she really  _ doesn’t _ , Rosabella realizes. Ramona has always seemed so distant from the rest of them, more easily inclined to overstep boundaries.

 

Ramona Badwolf shrugs off negative opinions without a second thought, keeps to herself...unless she’s helping someone smaller. Rosabella thinks about lunch, about how carefully Ramona interacted with Ugly Duckling; she decides that Ramona isn’t as big and bad as everyone else thinks she is. 

 

It’s... _ cute _ .

 

“Follow me slowly, alright?” Ramona moves to the pen, swings one leg over the metal, and then the other. Then she lowers herself to sit on the floor. The pups cower; Ramona blinks slowly, breathes deeply, and lets it out as a low, growly, “ _ Boof. _ ”

 

Silence. 

 

_ "Boof. Boof." _

 

The litter’s ears all collectively perk. The shaking slowly ceases. Ramona keeps her eyes on them, but waves Rosabella in. The puppies start to whine and quiver when Rosabella gets close, but Ramona keeps up those soft noises and it almost seems to relax them. By the time Rosabella sits like Ramona does--uncaring if the dirt ruins her dress--they seem to be thoroughly confused, and scared. 

 

“You do it, too.” Ramona murmurs. “Let it--let it pop out of your chest.  _ Boof _ .”

 

Rosabella looks back. The class stares at her. Rosabella turns to look at the litter and tries her very best to quietly, “ _ Boof _ ,“ back. It sounds significantly less impressive than Ramona’s, but to her relief it seems to have the same effect. The pups stare at her too, ears forward. They’ve stopped whining. 

 

Rosabella does it again. “ _ Boof. _ ” One of them cocks their head to the side. 

 

“That’s perfect,” Ramona murmurs. “Softer. Like a whisper.” She reaches back for one of the bottles that Professor Bear hands her and slowly puts it in Rosabella’s hand. “Keep it up.”

 

It’s feels a little silly, for the two of them to make noises at terrified puppies, but Rosabella watches it start to  _ work _ . One pup--the bravest of the whole lot, the biggest, and probably the oldest--pries themself free of the pile and slowly creeps close. Rosabella doesn’t move; Ramona lets out an encouraging noise through her teeth, rolling the sound around in her throat. She takes Rosabella’s hand, palm up, and drips three drops of milk against the tips of her fingers. Rosabella holds it out to the animal, her mouth dry. 

 

The pup sniffs her, then takes a cautious lick against the milk. “ _ Boof _ ,” Rosabella whispers. 

 

That bright yellow gaze darts to the milk bottle in her hand, then to Rosabella. She pulls her hand back, slow and steady, shakes out a bit more of the formula, then offers it again. 

 

Ramona makes the noise again. And Rosabella sees it happen, the first cautious wag of a tail, and she  _ smiles _ . She offers the bottle nipple first this time, and the pup sniffs at it before latching on. Soft, achy little whines escape and Ramona coaches her to make another noise, now. 

 

“Like, a little one.  _ Rrr _ . Soft. Kind of like you’re asking it.” 

 

Rosabella does, quirking her voice up higher. The tail wagging increases and the pup actually starts to move closer still, until they’re halfway into her lap. Rosabella’s breath catches in her chest; she looks at Ramona in something like a panic, unsure of what to do. 

 

“You’re a provider right now,” Ramona murmurs. “He’s choosing to trust you. Start talking.”

 

“Okay,” Rosabella whispers, and the pup pulls harder at the bottle. “That’s it. Who’s a good boy...who’s a good little guy?”

 

His ears flick back and forth as she whispers soft praises, but he doesn’t move away from her. She brings up the hand he’s licked and shows it to him, careful to telegraph each move. He doesn’t flinch away from his meal and lets her brush her hand against his silky back, his little tail a blur behind him. He empties the bottle soon and she lifts her hand away, thinking that he’s going to move for his siblings again, but he startles her out of her head when he climbs over her legs and lap, curling his big, warm body against her side. 

 

He yips to his siblings, who have watched closely. Two more pups come crawling forward, one gravitating to Ramona and the other dragging itself to Rosabella, eyes wide. 

 

“Boof,” she tries. The puppy’s tail wags slowly. 

 

Professor Bear hands them both bottles again, and Rosabella repeats the slow process of letting the pup pace their own feeding, letting them trust her. It doesn’t take as long, thanks to helpful little chuffs from the sated leader still pressed against her side, and soon she has a lapful of direwolf. Ramona’s little champion lays between them, alternating between pressing their head against Ramona’s hip and licking Rosabella’s elbow. The last two are quick to follow once the last bottles are offered, and Rosabella doesn’t even have to make noises at them to get their tails whipping back and forth.

 

“Rosabella!” She looks over, and sees Blondie pointing her Mirrorphone at her. “Aww, this is gonna be the  _ cutest _ segment on my Mirrorcast!”

 

She scratches behind one of the pup’s ears. “Do you think we could turn that into a talk about direwolf conservation--”

 

“Oh,  _ absolutely _ . I was going to ask if you help me talk about that anyway.” Blondie crouches to get a shot of the direwolves, who haven’t scattered at her getting close, grinning. “I’ll send you the video and we can interview tomorrow.”

 

Blondie sends the video later that night. True to her word, the video is absolutely  _ adorable _ . Rosabella watches herself feed and make noises at the pups, watches as they follow by example and take a chance to be close to her. 

 

Then she gets distracted. The camera focuses on her, yes, but she watches Ramona in the back. Ramona, who stares at her like she’s hung the very stars in the sky, but says nothing. Despite herself, despite everything she told herself this morning, Rosabella feels her heart start to race and heat prickles her cheeks. No one has ever looked at her so intensely, so  _ consumingly. _

 

Ramona has such...big, blue eyes.

  
Rosabella closes the video, shuts off her Mirrorphone, and tries to go to sleep.


	2. Cerberus and Persephone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You knew she was on the forums? Who she was on the forums?”
> 
> “Duh?” Faybelle squints. “Everyone knows it’s her. Like, really, fangs_fur_justice isn’t a subtle username at all. Only an idiot would have to be fooled by it.”
> 
> “Spin your hay,” Rosabella says, defeated. “Just...just spin your dumb hay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the badwolf+hood family is really, really bad at keeping secrets.

The interview goes great. Rosabella makes her points and Blondie makes it the absolute focus of her Mirrorcast. She gets notifications inviting her to threads in the student forums. People stop her in the halls and ask about the direwolves, the situation. What they can do to _help_.  Rosabella floats on this euphoria alone for three full days. Then, of course, it’s ruined.

 

Darling corners her after lunch, her complexion pale. “Don’t look at the forums.” 

 

“What--” Rosabella’s stomach knots around itself. “What do you mean?” She lifts her phone to check, anyway, and finds Darling has a hand clamped around her wrist. “Darling!” 

 

“Someone’s posted...pictures.” Her roommate’s jaw tightens. “Pictures of wolves.”

 

Rosabella feels her blood chill. “No.”

 

“They’re in every thread. None of them are...” Darling sighs through her nose. “It’s really bad, Rosabella.

 

“ _ No! _ ” The cold in her veins is replaced with savage fury, the kind that makes everyone remember that although her mother was a Beauty, her father was once a  _ Beast _ . “How-- _ dare they _ \--” Her eyes burn with tears and that makes her even angrier, makes her hands shake as she drags them through her hair and feels so utterly  _ useless _ . “Of course. Of course they just  _ had _ to, who even  _ does that _ , what-- what do they even  _ get _ from this?!”

 

“Blondie asked Humphrey to track down the source. I asked Dexter to help crack it open too.” Darling pulls her into a hug, a tight squeeze of a thing. “Fangs has been going  _ wild _ . I think they’ve invented new curses altogether.”

 

Not even talk about her online crush can make her smile. Weirdly enough, she thinks about how Ramona would feel if she knew about what was being posted in those threads. Darling wouldn’t have warned her like this unless it was incredibly graphic. 

 

And Grimm, of all animals, wolves? Ramona would be seeing herself peeled open.

 

Her thoughts cycle between the forums and Ramona wildly, making her dizzy. Looking at her inbox makes her sick, seeing the chain of emails saying that there’s been a surge of activity on her threads, knowing what they contain. Pictures of-- _ Grimm _ . The sheer cruelty makes her weep that night. 

 

She does open up one email, deep and late into the evening; just the one that says fangs_fur_justice sent her a private message. They’re so concerned that she feels bad for waiting for so long.

 

_ are u alright? u didnt see any of the pictures right??? pls dont look at them. theyre bad. pls let me know if i can do anything to help you.  _

 

_ I’m fine _ , Rosabella sends back, typing slowly.  _ My roommate warned me before I could look. If that awful person thinks that this could take me down, they’ve got another thing coming. Are  _ **_you_ ** _ okay? _

 

She sends the message and sets her phone aside, staring at the ceiling. The sudden buzz of a text alert makes her jump, casting nervous eyes towards Darling’s side of the room. A soft snore rolls back, letting her breathe out quietly in relief. The number that sent it is unfamiliar, but the text is thankfully quite blunt. So much so that Rosabella can’t help but smile.

 

**> its ramona b.wolf. got ur # from p.bear. meet me @ classroom 10 mins**

 

A pause.

 

**> Pls**

 

Rosabella rolls on her stomach, propping her chin against her pillow. 

 

**> Why? It’s almost three AM.**

 

A series of ellipses follow, and Rosabella takes the momentary lull in the conversation to save Ramona’s number in her phone. 

 

**> bcuz the forums 2day were garbage+ur still awake. ive got a way u can sleep. just wait outside ur door then lemme put my roomie up**

 

So Ramona saw the posts. That’s enough to get her heaving her weary body out of bed, pulling on a plush robe and toeing into her slippers. She ties back her hair and pockets her room key; she’s careful not to make a sound as she tiptoes by Darling, waiting outside of her door. She can’t see anything in the dark halls of the dormitory; the half moon spills pools of ivory light. 

 

The thoughts roll around in her head again. Ramona saw the posts. Saw the wolves she loves massacred, splayed out. Rosabella wonders if Ramona is really seeking out comfort from  _ her _ rather than the other way around; wonders if she should go back into her room. Or maybe this is Ramona’s strange, roundabout attempt to ask her out. She battles with herself between compassion and the instinctual burn to assert her own boundaries. If Ramona needs a friend, she’ll be a friend. If Ramona wants more, then she’ll just set her down gently. 

Or maybe Rosabella just needs to get some sleep. She rubs her sore, swollen eyes and grimaces.  _ Maybe. _

 

Footfalls, bare feet against stone. Rosabella blinks and squints into the dark, murky gloom. Ramona saunters through patches of moonlight, her expression cast so deeply in shadow that Rosabella can’t make it out; she doesn’t dare strain her eyes to read her aura, either. They’re irritated enough and she’s going to be nursing a spell of a sinus headache from crying earlier. No need to add to the pain. 

 

“Hey.” Ramona’s voice is whisper thin and roughened by a lack of sleep, a weary rumble that still sends a shiver down her spine. “...Sorry. If I interrupted your sleep.” She scratches the back of her neck, jaw working. “Just assumed you were up since you hit me back pretty fast, and I…”

 

“You didn’t,” Rosabella says softly. “I couldn’t manage to get to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I--” 

 

She can’t get the words past the lump in her throat. Her eyes settle down to look at the floor, then slowly look up, adjusted to the bleary gloom; Ramona’s expression is  _ gentle _ . Understanding. The quirk of her lips is downcast, one of mourning. Rosabella is stricken by the very sight of it. 

 

“Yeah. Me too.” Ramona nods toward the stairs. “Follow me. Not much time left to break in. Woulda called you in sooner--”

 

Rosabella sputters, “Wait,  _ break in where? _ ”

 

“--but it was another ballet night for Justine. I hate ballet night.” Ramona cocks a brow up. “And we’re breaking into the classroom. Duh.”

 

“You can’t just-- _ we _ can’t just--” Rosabella stops. “Ballet night?”

 

“Sleep dancing. Justine does it sometimes.” Is that a husky blush rising to her cheeks, or Rosabella’s imagination? “...What? Look, sometimes she needs help gettin’ in and out of the room.”

 

Something goes unsaid;  _ if I don’t look after her, who will? _ Rosabella’s heart warms. 

 

“That’s very sweet of you,” she says, and Ramona snorts. “But I’m not sure I want to get detention--or  _ worse _ \--why would we even…” 

 

Ramona shifts, uneasily. Her ears flick and Rosabella drags in a breath. 

 

“You want to check on the puppies.” It’s not a question. Ramona’s shoulders sag and she nods, very slow, like she’s guilty. “Ramona, nothing bad’s going to happen to them.”

She gets a tired rumble in reply, and Ramona glares at her. “I wasn’t asking your permission,” she snaps quietly, “just wanted to see if you were taggin’ along. Figured you’d be spooked too and want to...I thought…forget it.” She turns on her heel. “Night.” 

 

Ramona stalks down the hall, fists opening and closing at her sides. Rosabella takes one step after her, and thinks,  _ if I don’t look after her, who will? _

 

She jogs after Ramona quickly, pushing her glasses higher up her face. “Wait,” she shouts in a whisper. “Wait, wait--Ramona!”

 

Ramona stops, turning to face her. Rosabella recognizes the scowl on her face as her version of a pout. Rosabella huffs a breath, one hand smoothing down her nightgown and gives Ramona a scowl of her own. 

 

“First, you’re going to apologize to me for snapping.” Rosabella juts her chin up. “I didn’t deserve it.” 

 

There are few students in the school who would chase Ramona Badwolf down and demand an apology. The scowl on Ramona’s face bleeds away into a withering sort of apathy, hard to read. She puffs a short growl, then opens her mouth. “Sorry. For snapping at you. S’been a long day, longer night, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Won’t happen again.”

 

Rosabella smiles. “Thank you. Now...how bad is the detention going to be if we get caught?”

 

* * *

 

 

Ramona breaks the lock on the door with a casual show of strength that makes Rosabella’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. She’d expected some form of magical enchantment on the locks, not just a simple deadbolt, or whatever had been the mechanism behind it. And she hadn’t been expecting it to crumble over Ramona’s strength alone. 

 

Her heart isn’t racing from that. Nope. It really isn’t. 

 

Ramona’s ear flicks. Gruffly, she says, “Did that scare you?”

 

“W-what?” Rosabella shakes her head. “No, no. Just startled me, I guess.”

 

“Mmh.” 

 

Ramona pushes open the door and holds it for her. Rosabella enters, glancing around. The tall, arched windows let in the moonlight, casting everything in a silvery glow. It all looks bleached out, grey and nearly dreamlike. She trails her fingers against the tops of a desk and marvels at how it doesn’t ripple under her fingers like water, it all feels so surreal. 

The sound of metal squealing and twisting in distress draws her attention back to Ramona, who props open the door of Professor Bear’s office. Rosabella hustles in, wondering when breaking the rules of fate also meant breaking the law. Or at least the school’s rules. 

 

The eldest pup sleepily pokes his head out from a large, earthy dome that Professor Bear had conjured on the second day. His nose twitches; Rosabella stifles a giggle. “Hey there, champ.” 

 

Like magic he’s pacing at the fence of the pen, shaking out his white coat. Ramona closes the door and is the first to swing over the wire, like always. She sits and clicks her tongue, making a less-than-human sound in her throat; the pup stops pacing and moves to her slowly, head lowered and ears quirked, whining. With worry, Rosabella realizes, as he settles against Ramona’s side and lays his head on her knee and lets her pet over him. 

 

Her eyes are far away. Rosabella takes the momentary distraction to try and climb over the fence and keep her nightgown’s hem pulled down. She gets one leg over the wire; she swings the other over, and her nightgown rides up just as Ramona looks up. 

 

They both freeze. Ramona sputters an apology and clamps a hand over her eyes, resolutely looking away. Rosabella sits down on folded legs and ignores the heat flushed across her face. 

 

“It’s alright,” she says, after a while. “I mean, I don’t mind. It was an accident, right?”

 

“I--yes.” 

 

Rosabella laughs, a little strained. “How are you going to get away with spooking little old grannies in their nightgowns if you can’t even handle me?” 

 

“Well, grandmas tend to not have legs like yours.” 

 

Ramona closes her eyes after she says it. Mouthes a curse. She looks like she’s just bit into a stinkbug pie and Rosabella covers her mouth to hide her shocked expression and to stifle a laugh.

 

“That--that didn’t come out right. I’m sorry.” 

 

“You’re alright,” Rosabella says. “Might be safer for the grandmas if they don’t have legs like mine.”

 

Ramona goes red to her ears. Her voice is startlingly calm, though, as she replies, “I dunno. I might be into grandma gams now. Maybe you’ve unleashed something on the grandma community. The horror.”

 

This time there is no stifling her laugh; it bubbles out of her chest and carries around the room. Ramona’s smile lets her know that she hasn’t endangered them into being found out, and it has the secondary effect of bringing out the rest of the little pack. Rosabella braces herself as four other bodies prance to her, holding her hands out. Three of the pups worm against her with soft whines, licking at her chin. One plops right onto her lap; another nearly knocks her on her side. 

 

“Easy!” She wheezes under the weight. “Easy, easy, please.”

 

They settle after that; one in her lap, one against her side, the other stretching out between her and Ramona, licking at her knee every now and then. She watches Ramona, her blue eyes running up and down each puppy in a calculating stare. The tension thrumming in her body slowly vanishes, until her broad shoulders sag with a final sigh.

 

Everyone had been so quick to warn her, to keep her from seeing the pictures. Had anyone done the same for Ramona?

 

“No,” Ramona says, low. “Had to see it on my own. Not the best way to start my morning.” She glances up to read Rosabella’s startled expression. “You said it out loud.” 

 

“Oh. Oh, Ramona.” Rosabella tries to shimmy closer, dislodging several comfy puppies from their spots. She doesn’t stop until she’s pressed against Ramona’s side, leaning on her. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so…”

 

“What for,” Ramona asks stiffly, the litter surrounding them in silence. “You didn’t do anything.”

 

“It’s just--that anonymous user. They’ve been aggravating me for so long, and I’ve responded, and I shouldn’t have.” Rosabella closes her eyes. “I thought I had them blocked every which way, but they keep coming  _ back _ , and now they’ve...”

 

“You hush up,” Ramona growls. “What other people do isn’t your responsibility. ‘Specially not gross idiots like that guy. I swear to Grimm, I’m so  _ tired _ of fighting them every time you post something. I’d wring their neck myself if I could find the idiot, but you can’t track scent through the Mirrornet and--”

 

“Wait. You have an account?” Rosabella looks at her. Ramona goes a little pale. “What’s your user name? Did...you say  _ fighting _ , but I’ve never seen…”

 

She trails off, staring. She can see Ramona’s pulse leaping in the shadowed hollow of her throat, she’s so close. She puts a hand against Ramona’s arm, feels the muscle flex under her touch. Rosabella wets her lips, draws in a breath. 

 

“F-Fangs?”

 

“What? No! I have no idea what you’re talking about, I mean, I don’t.” Ramona looks away, tries to pry herself out too but she’s trapped by half asleep puppies. “ _ Hex _ me,” she hisses. 

“Oh.” Rosabella feels dizzy. “You know, I...the way you texted. I thought something was familiar.”

 

“I-I--”

 

“Why are you so nervous, Ramona?” Rosabella swallows past a lump in her throat. She’d never once imagined she’d see fangs_fur_justice in the flesh, or at least not while she was still in school. “Don’t want everyone to know you’re a big, bad activist?”

 

Ramona takes a deep breath. “I don’t want you to think I’m kissin’ up to you,” she says after a moment, staring at the opposite wall. “I don’t want you to think I’m just playing at what I say.” Her voice cracks on the last word. “Cause then--if I ever got the courage to say what I wanted, you’d just think it was all pretend, and--and we were friends and I thought that. That was pretty nice.” 

 

“We’re still friends!” Rosabella is shocked that Ramona would consider otherwise. Nothing can change how viciously fangs_fur_justice would snap at someone attacking her, or the advice they gave her, or the gentle, kind way they looked out for her. Just because it was Ramona all along doesn’t change how it all makes her feel. 

 

Ramona looks at her. Her expression looks pained; she looks so utterly vulnerable in that moment that Rosabella doesn’t need her aura to tell her how she feels. Rosabella’s just little breathless from the ache that starts in her ribcage. It howls like mourning, pressing against her bones and gnaws her heart. How lonely it must be, Rosabella thinks, to be caught between the worlds of beast and man. 

 

“We’re still friends,” Rosabella whispers. “Maybe even better ones.” Her voice shakes and she presses her face against Ramona’s shoulder as it crashes over her. She’s been crushing on fangs_fur_justice. On  _ Ramona _ . 

 

_ Grimm, help me. _

 

It was easy to keep herself above it, when it was just a person over the Mirrornet. No face, no name; she adored more the concept and didn’t think much about the reality. Now the reality is pressed against her side, and so scared that Rosabella would--

 

_ That I’d shun her. _

 

Her eyes burn. She sniffles, just a little. 

 

“Are you--don’t cry.” Ramona sounds panicked. “Oh,  _ please  _ don’t cry.”

 

“It’s been a long day,” Rosabella says, voice hoarse. “I’m just a little overwhelmed, is all. I’m not mad. I’m not sad that you’re behind my favorite person on that forum.” 

 

Ramona takes that in silence and Rosabella doesn’t push for a response. She’s too tangled up in her own head. She shakes; then Ramona’s arm shifts, moves to hold her waist. She turns her face to keep it pressed against Ramona’s shoulder, and she stress-cries. Sympathy-cries, too. Ramona whines low in her throat; one of the puppies shifts to lick her cheek.

 

“They’re so sweet,” Rosabella whispers, stroking their head. “Why would anyone...anyone even think to hurt them?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Ramona lies, and Rosabella lets her. They both know why. 

 

She closes her eyes against the damp patch on Ramona’s button up pajama top, trying to soak in the warmth and corral her thoughts. She knows of a few facts; that Ramona likes her, and that Rosabella likes her back. Sort of. She is not in any way ready to tackle these thoughts, not with the ability to be fair to Ramona and to herself. 

 

“I still…” She grips Ramona’s hand. “We’re still friends. We just started to be friends for real, I don’t...I don’t want to lose that already.”

 

“You’d be okay with me posting,” Ramona asks softly. 

 

“Of course I would. You have a lot of good thoughts.” 

 

Ramona  _ giggles _ . “I sure do,” she says, a bit of confidence coming back to her. 

 

Rosabella falls asleep somewhere along the way. She knows this because she keeps her eyes closed, for a moment, and when she opens them again she’s tucked into her bed, staring at her alarm clock and her glasses on the nightstand. Darling’s blurry form moves around her half of the room. 

 

For a moment, everything feels like a dream. Surely she hadn’t met with Ramona in the dead of night. Surely they hadn’t broken into Professor Bear’s office to play with puppies. Surely she hadn’t been lulled to sleep by her own exhaustion and Ramona’s warmth pressing into her, around her. The dream fogs around her at the edges; strong arms under her knees and around her back, the drugging smell of flowers from the deepest depths of the Enchanted Forest...

 

Rosabella shakes her head, groans at the heavy ache of it. She feels like garbage. “What…” 

 

Darling moves closer. “You’re awake! I was so worried when Ramona carried you in at five.”

 

Rosabella squints. “That... _ happened? _ ” Last night actually happened. Oh, Grimm,  _ all of that actually happened. _ “What time is it?” 

 

Darling winces. “Eight…” 

Rosabella does the most mature thing she can do in such a situation, and buries her face back into her pillow. She has no drive or energy to get ready for Beast Care and Training. She also doesn’t think she can face Professor Bear right now. Or Ramona. Or  _ anyone. _

 

“Did she ask you out?” Darling sits on her bed, resting one hand on her back. Her voice is always the same, sugary sweet softness, but now it carries sympathy. “I know you’ve been really excited to work with her on the direwolf project and everything.” 

 

“No, no, she didn’t ask me out.” Rosabella raises herself up on her hands, squinting. “Wait, you  _ know  _ she likes me?”

 

“Oh, honey.” Darling pats her shoulder. “The whole school knows.” 

 

“ _ What? _ ” Rosabella gapes. “How!?” 

 

“She’s really bad at lying. And also being subtle. We were all too polite to say anything.” 

 

Rosabella lets herself drop back into her pillows, and moans in agony. She can literally  _ see _ someone’s inner self, how did she not pick up on this from the get go? This day is officially over, in her opinion.

 

She misses half her classes and eats a few granola bars from her stash under the bed. After a quick shower and a self pep talk, Rosabella thinks she’s actually ready to face the rest of the world properly. Eyedrops have gotten rid of the ache, and her sinuses are clear, if a little bit sore, and water and good have managed to tend to her headache. 

 

She dresses, and notices a sealed envelope on her desk; probably something the fairies dropped in. Professor Bear’s seal is stamped on in wax. Rosabella winces, opens the envelope, and finds a kindly written letter saying that, while he understands her fears and appreciates her love of animals, that breaking and entering into his classroom and office is still against school rules and that she has two weeks of detention to clean the unicorn stables. 

 

It could be worse, Rosabella thinks, folding the letter and pink slip into her bag as she sets off for Chemythstry.

 

* * *

 

 

It gets worse. Way, way worse. 

 

She was not prepared for a love potion. She wasn’t prepared to smell clean sweat and wolfsbane and those flowers again, knowing who it belongs to because  _ who else could it be. _ And she definitely wasn’t prepared for a demonstration of True Love’s Kiss, and for it to obliterate the classroom. 

Then again, it was Raven and Apple. They’ve been waxing deep red in their auras ever since Spring Fairest. 

 

Regardless, now Rosabella has  _ double detention. _ And the straw-spinning is for  _ three months. _ Rosabella is already aching everywhere. At least the days will alternate to keep her from doing both sentences on the same day.  _ That _ would be the absolute, utter worst. 

 

The door opens; Cupid and Blondie leave. Rosabella catches a bit of color curling off of Cupid’s wings. She peers closer, bracing herself for the shock of looking at Cupid’s true self, like she has to every time. She wonders if Blondie knows about Cupid; she doubts it. 

 

The glamour Cupid wears is top notch, befitting of her godhood status. It still stands no chance against Rosabella’s eyes. Her skin stretches over her bones, pale as a corpse, her cheeks hollow and eyes sunken. Vicious looking talons curl from the tips of her fingers and when Cupid talks, Rosabella catches the flash of fangs. Bones flex instead of wings, and the faintest, faintest trace of funeral incense tickle the edges of Rosabella’s senses; Cupid looks like a daughter of  _ Hades _ rather than a daughter of Eros. 

 

Cupid has her reasons for hiding her parentage. She is a Rebel, after all.

 

Still, her aura reads a pleasant, lovely pink that matches Blondie Lockes’s. Rosabella is happy for the both of them. Then she catches Faybelle mumbling something about  _ beasts of burden _ under her breath and anger floods her limbs. 

 

“Oh, no you don’t!” She marches beside Faybelle as they enter into the room of hay for their detention. “You are not charming the animals again.” She thinks about lunch the other day. “Do I have to call Ramona in here? I’ve got her on speed dial, I’ll do it!” 

 

Faybelle looks over her shoulder, smirking as the door shuts behind them. She looks amused rather than intimidated, which spells doom for Rosabella. “Whoa, why do you have Ramona’s number in the first place?”

 

“I, I--” Rosabella sputters. “It’s for class! We’re partners on the, the direwolf project.” 

 

“Mmhm.” Faybelle makes sure to draw out the sounds to make it torture. “Sure, whatever you say. I mean, it’s not like she’s been fronting for you on the forums for like, months. Like, whatever weird human-wolf courtship rituals you two go through is your business, until Blondie gets a hold of it. I don’t really care.” 

 

Rosabella stares. Faybelle looks vaguely uncomfortable under the scrutiny. 

 

“What?”

 

“You knew she was on the forums? Who she  _ was _ on the forums?”

 

“ _ Duh? _ ” Faybelle squints. “ _ Everyone _ knows it’s her. Like, really,  _ fangs_fur_justice _ isn’t a subtle username like, at all. Only an idiot would have to be fooled by it.” 

 

“Spin your hay,” Rosabella says, defeated. “Just...just spin your dumb hay.”

 

* * *

 

 

She’s done her share of the load in two hours and shuffles out, tired and embarrassed. She can see the true feelings and the true self of any being, any creature--she can look through a  _ god’s glamour _ , for Godmother’s sake!--and yet, Rosabella was completely unaware that Ramona Badwolf had a crush on her until a few days ago. And that Ramona was really the kind, sweet, blunt forum user who had stuck up for her and supported her since second year. 

 

All she needs is Cupid telling her that she feels the same for Ramona. Oh, wait! That’s already happened too! 

 

Rosabella covers her face and moans. And then makes a decision. So, Ramona likes her. She likes Ramona. There’s really a clear solution to a problem that doesn’t exist, and one she’s been dancing around for pretty much nothing. She thinks about Ramona’s reverent, consuming stare in the video. About how Ramona carried her back to her dorm room at five in the morning. 

 

Rosabella takes a sharp breath. She can do this. 

 

Strength floods her limbs; Rosabella bursts off at a run, taking the stairs two at a time. She’s out of breath and aching and sore when she gets to the girl’s dorm hall, but Rosabella ignores the screaming of her muscles. She’s not sure how long the burst of courage will last her, and she needs to at least ask Ramona out to coffee before it vanishes. She skips to a stop in front of Ramona’s room, raises a hand to knock. 

 

She jerks it back with a yelp when Ramona opens it up herself, growling, “Whoever’s running up and down the halls,  _ stop _ before I--” She stops. “R-Rosa?” 

 

A bolt of pleasure shudders its way down her spine. Ramona is not allowed to say her name like that ever, ever again. Rosabella feels her cheeks growing a ruddier red, and she says in a rush, “Do you want to Hexflix and chill?!” 

 

Ramona wheezes like she’s been punched square in the chest. “ _ What?! _ ”

 

“What--oh!” Rosabella nearly dies on the spot. “Oh no, wait, hold on, not like that! I mean, like, a date!” 

 

Ramona wheezes again. 

 

“ _ No, no! _ Like! Regular date! Movie date!  _ Maybe kissing?! _ Or not! If you’re not comfortable with that, I just, really like you I think and I want to get to know you better and  _ it has been a long day _ ,” Rosabella cries, bending over to rest her hands on her knees and gulp down oxygen before she manages to dropkick herself deeper into the hole she’s made for herself. 

 

“I--yes? Wait. You’re a-asking me out?” Ramona’s eyes grow big. “ _ You’re _ asking  _ me _ out? You’re. Asking me out.”

 

“Oh, my fairy Godmother! You two are so  _ bad at this. _ ” Justine ducks behind her roommate’s arm. “Sup, girl. Ramona would love to meet you in the student lounge for a movie. She’ll be there around seven. Pick out something scary so she can hold on to you, because she’s a huge baby, and will probably cry.”

 

“ _ Justine, _ ” Ramona roars.

 

“Love ya, boo.” Justine gives Rosabella a thumbs up. “Wear something in gold; it’s Ramona’s favorite color.”

  
Justine shuts the door. Rosabella stands there for a full minute before she lifts both hands in the air and cheers. 


End file.
